what's trust in a (self)-driven world?
what's worth when a skewed view is all I've held
anchored here I plea for embrace
alone I'm here, with none to give me my place
they've said once and time again
how life is in some master plan
but dreams still speak of death
and life still rots of yesterdays left
cauterized - the part of me manned l*** for life
beheaded - the life inside once drove the man alive
inside the faulting dusted hide
beside lies the wretched face of what was my faith
in man in truth in all sacred things but me
and who am I ? a speck of fecal spirit fallen- death
so here I voice a void of spending useless word
and here I lie among? - alone - in waste
torn from the hands of giving men
the rest are born to take and waste our life
the arch does break and fallen are we who dared
to breach the shells of self-deceit and flee the call - subjective retreat
this rhyme of living lies in hindered sight of dreaming right to
living life as if it were real as if we minded
integrity as if all that I showed were to be replaced
with what I really was to be?
before the storm of life killed what (I thought) was truth
I did spit on lesser men who lived to take and make for their own
then life itself looked me in the face and took my faith
is there some chance I'm alone in my empty way?
what's worth when a skewed view is all I've held
anchored here I plea for embrace
alone I'm here, with none to give me my place
they've said once and time again
how life is in some master plan
but dreams still speak of death
and life still rots of yesterdays left
cauterized - the part of me manned l*** for life
beheaded - the life inside once drove the man alive
inside the faulting dusted hide
beside lies the wretched face of what was my faith
in man in truth in all sacred things but me
and who am I ? a speck of fecal spirit fallen- death
so here I voice a void of spending useless word
and here I lie among? - alone - in waste
torn from the hands of giving men
the rest are born to take and waste our life
the arch does break and fallen are we who dared
to breach the shells of self-deceit and flee the call - subjective retreat
this rhyme of living lies in hindered sight of dreaming right to
living life as if it were real as if we minded
integrity as if all that I showed were to be replaced
with what I really was to be?
before the storm of life killed what (I thought) was truth
I did spit on lesser men who lived to take and make for their own
then life itself looked me in the face and took my faith
is there some chance I'm alone in my empty way?